


There's a First Time for Everything

by ShinigamiAnateria (ShinigamiKnox)



Series: Trans!Lock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A slight touch of body dysphoria, Bisexual John, But Sherlock is content with himself otherwise, But on T, Cunnilingus, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sherlock is pre-op, Trans Male Character, Trans Sherlock, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinigamiKnox/pseuds/ShinigamiAnateria
Summary: After a case, John decided it would be a good idea to act on feelings that had been building for some time. Sherlock has a small tidbit of information he thinks he should let John in on first.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, couple things first. This story isn't brit-picked, mainly because I don't know if there are different terms for 'binder,' 'packer,' or the like. Second, please don't use this as a reference for all transmen. Some may enjoy vaginal sex, some may not. It's all a matter of preference. In this particular case, I wrote Sherlock as someone who does (which is a bit unnatural to write for me, so if there are any errors, let me know). In some instances, I chose to use female anatomical terms, because I feel as though in this case Sherlock would be confident enough in his transport to use those terms himself. Again, this isn't the case for all transmen. And lastly, because this has come up before, I'm an FTM transgender. That's not to say I know everything there is about being trans (not even close), but I would like to contribute to the Trans!lock part of the fandom. With that in mind, if you believe I got something wrong, let me know.

It wasn’t hard to tell John was bisexual and was attracted to Sherlock. Sherlock thought about telling him immediately, just to keep from getting John's hopes up or to avoid some ugly confrontation later where John accused Sherlock of lying to him. He wasn’t trying to lie, it just wasn’t any of John's business, until it became John's business.

It took over a year. During this time, John had a constant string of lovers and it didn’t bother Sherlock in the least, well, when he didn’t have to see them. If that was how John choose to get a leg up, then so be it. As long as there was no threat in John leaving him, it was a system that worked.

It worked for over a year, until the string of lovers stopped and John found himself alone, romantically and sexually. With no more distractions, John found his thoughts drifting to Sherlock. It started off as mere curiosity. Did Sherlock have any sort of physical relationship with anyone? Did he feel any sort of attraction towards anyone else? Would he be a good lover? Would he stay afterwards if asked?

John's thoughts quickly passed general curiosity and tipped into the realm of fantasizing. John blamed the fact he hadn’t been with anyone for at least a months’ time. It started with the silky, soft-looking curls brushing against his skin, followed by those full lips pressing against his skin, soothing the light tickling the hair would cause. God, Sherlock’s solid weight pressed against John...

Okay, John had to admit, he was attracted to his best mate. So when the opportunity presented itself, both of them high on endorphins, John could barely stop himself from surging forward for a quick, rough kiss. Hell, he didn’t even try to stop himself. Sherlock didn’t respond right away, mostly because it was entirely unexpected and he was entirely unpracticed. John didn’t give up so easily. He slowly pushed Sherlock up against the wall in the entry way, the same place they’d decided John would move in, where Mrs. Hudson could walk in on them. Neither of them thought about that while John made it his mission to ravage Sherlock’s mouth with his own.

Sherlock breathed in quickly and deeply when John broke away for a moment. His chest pressed up against John's and John's leg was inserted between Sherlock’s thighs. John's hands slid from Sherlock’s chest down to his waist, under both his Belstaff and his jacket and Sherlock pulled John closer for a moment.

It took a few moments for his mind to focus on why Sherlock should not be letting John do this and by then, John's mouth had found its way to Sherlock’s neck. He could feel John responding nicely against his own thigh and wanted nothing more than to be able to respond in the same way.

“John,” Sherlock moaned. He hadn’t meant to, it was supposed to get John's attention off his—Oh, that was a _fantastic_ spot—his neck, but his tone only encouraged John to keep going-- _right there_!

Sherlock felt teeth graze the sensitive skin just below his jaw on the right side as a hand slid down between their bodies to grope him.

“John!” Sherlock’s head hit the wall behind him with a loud sound. It cleared his head enough to push John back.

“Jesus, sorry,” John took a step back, discouraged by both Sherlock pushing him away and the lack of an erection in his hand. “I thought— You... You’re not interested. You’re not...into blokes. Jesus,” John groaned, “you’re probably not into _people_.”

“John.” Sherlock reached out before he thought better of it. What good would it do to touch John now?

“And I’ve just assaulted you,” he continued rambling nervously. “I understand if you no longer want me around for cases. I promise I won’t do this again.”

“John, will you stop talking?” He waited to make sure John had stopped. “You’re an attractive man—“

John groaned, “It doesn’t matter what comes after ‘but.’ “

“There is no but. You’re an attractive man and I would love to see this go further, but we need to talk first.”

“Right, of course.” John nodded. “We need to be on the same page. Listen, I, uh, don’t want this to be a one-night thing, you know, to get my rocks off.”

“Why don’t we go up to our flat, before we disturb Mrs. Hudson’s nightly routine?”

“Right,” John flushed and followed Sherlock up the stairs. They both shed their coats and made for the kitchen. “Tea, then?”

“Sure,” Sherlock took an empty seat.

“So, you’re...interested?” John asked, his back turned from Sherlock.

“In you, or in sex in general?”

“Both.”

“Yes.”

“To?”

“Both,” Sherlock nodded in affirmation despite John's back being turned.

“How long?”

“I don’t know,” Sherlock admitted. At what point did he notice the warmth in his stomach whenever John entered the room? Whenever a hand fell upon his leg or his arm or just a mere touch from John left him grinning the rest of the day?

“You don’t know something?”

“I can tell you the moment I wasn’t able to stop thinking about you. I can tell you the approximate moment the dopamine began surging every time I saw you. I can tell you when I started craving your touch or started imagining you beside me in bed, but I can’t tell you when I fell in love with you. It becomes a question of whether this was supposed to happen, if I had any say in this, in you coming into my life, into disrupting everything.”

John was at a loss for words for a few moments. Ah, so there was Sherlock’s philosopher mind. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“No. But something else does.” Sherlock looked down at his hands clasped together on the table. “I’m...” Oh, it shouldn’t be this difficult. He’d come out to plenty of people in his teen years, but he hasn’t had to since, not to someone he really cares about. “I...”

“If you’re afraid of how I’ll find you in a state of undress, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Sherlock insisted.

“Whatever it is, it’s fine. I told you before,” John said after the long pause.

“I’m a transman, John,” Sherlock swallowed hard and avoided John's gaze.

“Transman, as in transgender?” John said. Sherlock couldn’t read his tone but nodded.

“Pre-op. I’m on testosterone, obviously.”

“I’m amazed you find room in your scattered mind to remember to take a monthly shot,” John said as he leaned against the counter. Sherlock looked up to see him smiling in amusement.

“Alarm,” Sherlock admitted, sheepishly pulling his phone out. John's smile turned into a grin. “I know you’re bisexual, but that doesn’t say how you’ll react to...well, me.”

“Seemed to react just fine.”

“Before you knew.”

“Doesn’t change anything,” John assured. He pulled his jumper down over the erection he still had.

“The effects—“

“I don’t give a damn about the effects, Sherlock. You’re gorgeous and brilliant.”

Sherlock flushed at such simple words spoken from John's mouth. He pulled himself up from his chair to crowd John against the counter.

“I don’t do this often,” Sherlock warned.

John couldn’t take his eyes off his lips; he nodded and licked at his own lips. “I can imagine not. So, uh, how do you want to do this?”

Sherlock chuckled and pressed his thigh back between John's legs. John was practically sitting on the countertop and had Sherlock’s lapels clutched in his hand. He leaned in closer so his breath would be felt on John's ear as he whispered, “I want to ride you until I can’t possibly take it anymore. I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel you trembling beneath me before I draw out the most spectacular orgasm you’ve ever had.” He could feel John rutting up against him, his breath coming in ragged pants. He leaned back slightly with a smirk. “Sound good to you?”

“Oh, God, _yes_ ,” John moaned. “Are you sure that’s what _you_ want?”

“Have you known me to do anything I don’t want to do?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Besides, we can switch later, if you so please.”

“Sounds like you have quite the plan for tonight.”

“Well, I _was_ going to analyse the mould cultures currently residing in the door of the fridge and in the cupboard. Seems as though those plans have changed. Come on, then.” He reluctantly stepped back and took John’s hand to pull him along.

John fell back onto Sherlock’s bed, quickly followed by Sherlock’s weight in his lap. John slid a hand up from Sherlock’s knee to the inside of his thigh. He ran his thumb gently over his zip, Sherlock’s tight trousers stretched over the slight bulge of his packer.

“I’ve never…” John stuttered. “You’ll tell me if I do something not good, yeah?”

Sherlock hummed. John’s hand shifted to palm at his groin, fingers brushing against the insides of both his thighs. “It’s fine.” He wasted no time in removing article after article of clothing until he could taste John’s skin on his tongue. It wasn’t until John had been stripped down to his pants did he begin pulling at Sherlock’s jacket. He was being gentle. Sherlock barely felt him tugging the buttons on his shirt open. He tried being just as gentle in removing the white fabric stretched tightly around his chest; Sherlock had to help.

It wasn’t often he felt self-conscious about his body. Then again, it wasn’t often he slept with someone he would see again. It didn’t last long. John’s gentle kisses to his collarbone slipped down along his chest. Lips encompassed his left nipple and he sucked, hard. Sherlock writhed and went cross-eyed with a choked gasp.

“Sorry,” John murmured. He soothed the skin with light passes of his tongue. Sherlock ran a shaky hand through John’s hair.

“Again,” Sherlock croaked out. “Please.” He was met with a graze of teeth that made him shiver before John locked his mouth around his nipple and repeated. John kept one hand on Sherlock’s slightly curved waist while his other massaged the right side of Sherlock’s chest.

It wasn’t long before John turned his attention lower and began pulling at Sherlock’s belt. Slightly embarrassed, Sherlock rolled off John’s lap, turned his back, and took out his packer to shove it back into his drawer. He didn’t bother doing his zip back up before turning to stand in front of John.

“Okay?” He let his hands run along Sherlock’s skin, up his sides, along his arms. Sherlock nodded in response. Hands traced the curves that several layers usually hid with a whispered, “Wow.” John pressed soft, slow kisses to Sherlock’s abdomen as he pulled Sherlock’s trousers down past his knees. After kicking them off, he kneeled between John’s legs and stroked the light-coloured hair on his thighs.

“Lay back,” Sherlock murmured as he pulled John’s pants down. He lapped at the spot of pre-cum at the tip then mouthed at the shaft. John watched, unable to look away from the kiss-swollen lips on his cock. Watching those dark curls, _feeling_ the tips of Sherlock’s hair against his skin as Sherlock sucked him down, John moaned, already feeling close.

Sherlock replaced his mouth with his hands and stroked lightly and slowly. “Too much?”

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yes, John. I know what I want and how to get it.”

“I’m sure you do. C’mere.”

Sherlock crawled up onto John’s lap, only to be rolled onto his back. His erection pressed against Sherlock, who spread his legs just a bit more and rocked up against John.

“I want to taste you. Can I?” John murmured, mouthing along Sherlock’s jaw. Sherlock put a hand to the top of John’s head and pushed him down, giving him permission to do as he pleased. He never had anyone offer before, nor had any interest, but John seemed so eager.

He mouthed at Sherlock through the cotton briefs first, giving Sherlock a glimpse of what he had planned. He didn’t exactly enjoy the sensation of soaked cotton against his skin, but John moved on soon enough. He pressed kisses to the insides of Sherlock’s thighs as he pulled the fabric down Sherlock’s long legs. Easing into it, he gently pulled Sherlock’s legs open and ran his thumb over the swollen node.

“It’s, uh, a bit—The testosterone tends to—“ Sherlock stumbled. He wasn’t used to someone being so close to him to notice these things.

“I know. Well, not from experience, but it’s not a surprise. You’re perfect, love,” John assured, his face flushing a dark pink. “Are you all right with, uh, penetration?”

Sherlock stared at the ceiling of his room and nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”

John’s thumb continued stroking him, slowly, steadily, and much too lightly; it was driving him mad. With a kiss or two placed on the inside of his thigh, John replaced his thumb with his tongue, licking a slow strip between his labia. It was warm and wet and _good_. Sherlock didn’t look away from the ceiling as John mouthed at him. Clearly this wasn’t the first time for John either, not that Sherlock thought it would be.

Sherlock arched up and moaned loudly when John repeatedly tongued at the underside of his swollen clitoris. Only then did he look down at the head between his thighs. John had his eyes closed, focusing on what he was doing, while his head sort of moved as if—

“God,” Sherlock moaned and clutched at John’s short hair. Christ, it looked like John was blowing him and that imagery paired with the sensations of his _fantastic_ tongue was making it difficult to breathe properly. John clawed at Sherlock’s thighs, holding him in place while Sherlock tried not to squirm too much.

“John,” Sherlock groaned. “ _Oh_ , John. John, I’m going to—Fuck.” Sherlock felt fingers lightly stroking him open. He propped himself up on his elbow and watched John’s head bobbing between his legs. ‘I should stop him,’ Sherlock thought, but when would this happen again? ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he thought as he fell back, his eyes crossing again as John pushed in just in time to feel the contractions around his index and middle fingers.

“Wow, you are just stunning,” John murmured. He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand while Sherlock recovered.

“Oh, you’re just lucky my refractory period is almost non-existent. Give me a minute.” He let his feet drop back to the floor and took a couple deep breaths while John sat on the edge of the bed.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Top drawer, to the left,” Sherlock ran a hand along the small of John’s back while John leaned over to reach into Sherlock’s drawer. He hummed quietly at the rather lovely view he was presented with. “Come here.” He laid an arm down and John laid on his side, facing Sherlock. He brought a leg up and ran his calf up John’s leg until he was able to hook it around his thigh.

“I didn’t think you were one for cuddling.”

Sherlock smiled. “I am, but we’re not done just yet.” He took the condom from John, pushed him onto his back, and mounted his lap. “You have a great arse. I can’t wait until later,” he grinned as he slid the condom onto his partner. John shifted as Sherlock gave him a couple of strokes with his hand. He gripped Sherlock’s hips as he guided John’s cock into his body. Sherlock’s eyes slipped shut with a quiet, content sigh while John couldn’t take his eyes off Sherlock slipping further down onto him until Sherlock was flush with his pelvis.

He thought Sherlock looked radiant; chin tilted upward, lips parted just so, and his fringe damp with perspiration. Christ, he was stunning. John slid his hands up and down his sides again, before splaying them across Sherlock’s thighs. His grip there tightened when Sherlock’s body rose and fell the first time, a shallow thrust against John.

“Mmh,” Sherlock moaned quietly, “it’s been entirely too long.” He was mostly musing to himself, but John couldn’t help imagining Sherlock with some other person, exactly like this. Before he could really focus on details of that idea, Sherlock began a slow, tentative rhythm. John met his shallow thrusts downward with slight upward thrusts of his own and Sherlock’s head tilted back with a smile.

It didn’t take Sherlock long to speed up. He alternated between long, slow, tantalising strokes and quick, shallow thrusts. John could feel him tighten around his cock whenever Sherlock hit the right angle, which he did more often than not.

John moved his hands back up to Sherlock’s waist and began pulling him down while he pushed up into Sherlock’s wonderful heat. He encouraged John by clasping his hands over John’s on his own waist.

Sherlock suddenly stopped after a few minutes, seated fully against John again. Clumsily, he fell forward onto his hand and elbow to bring his face closer to John’s. The kiss started out hesitant and soft but quickly turned into sucking on lips and tongues while Sherlock rocked in short, aborted movements against John. It was absolutely frustrating for John.

John let him have his way for about two minutes before he rolled them over rather gracefully, putting himself on top and Sherlock on his back. His curls, somewhat wet with sweat, splayed out beneath his head and his skin was flushed in blotches on his chest and evenly over his face. John, having slipped out of Sherlock in the sudden shift, guided himself back in then gave Sherlock a few strokes over the swollen node between his labia. Still sensitive, Sherlock squirmed while John nipped at his neck.

John had himself propped up on one arm and used the other to pull Sherlock’s thigh up around his waist as he gave a tentative thrust.

“I’m not fragile.”

“Thought I’d be nice to you the first time.”

“Well, don’t be,” Sherlock nudged John with a heel to his rear.

As if to prove a point, John drew almost entirely out and quickly pushed back in. Sherlock’s back arched and he let off a moan that had shot straight to John’s lower stomach. He adjusted his stance to give him a better angle and repeated in hopes of getting an encore of that sound. Sherlock’s hands grasped at the covers above his head and he breathed in sharply.

“Yes, John,” he encouraged breathlessly. “A little left—Ah, your left, not mine. Oh, _yes_ , right _there_.” A heel dug into John’s arse and fingertips dug into his good shoulder. Sherlock’s other hand kept a firm grasp on the bedclothes above his head. John took advantage of Sherlock’s exposed neck by lavishing the skin with soft kisses and love bites.

“Oh, yes, John,” he encouraged. “Harder,” he practically begged. John groaned against Sherlock’s neck. Christ, was he vocal, John thought. He brought his mouth back down to Sherlock’s chest and swirled his tongue around an erect nipple. Curious to see Sherlock’s expression, he used his fingers to rub over the saliva-covered skin instead. Sherlock pushed up against John’s fingers while his unfocused gaze on the ceiling turned cross-eyed again. John couldn’t remember ever feeling so utterly aroused; Sherlock’s look of absolute pleasure brought him quite close. It took all his willpower not to come right then and there. Thank God, he didn’t because thirty seconds later, Sherlock let off the most arousing sound before muscles began contracting rapidly against John’s cock, pulling one of the most amazing orgasms John could ever remember having out of him, as promised.

John let his full weight rest against Sherlock, his head resting just above the breast tissue on his chest. He could feel Sherlock’s aftershocks against his oversensitive cock while Sherlock wrapped his arms lethargically around John. He pressed his cheek against the top of John’s head as his legs slid down and off John’s sweaty skin.

“You’re amazing,” John mumbled against his neck.

“Not so bad yourself,” Sherlock murmured right back. “Fuck, I needed that.” He stretched his arms above his head and began manoeuvring him out from underneath John’s weight. John flopped down against Sherlock’s pillows, sated and sleepy, while Sherlock pulled pyjamas on. He could see red marks along John’s skin that would turn into rather prominent marks. Most were below where his shirt collar would fall, but a couple—an impressive one—wouldn’t be covered, even with a collared shirt, he thought with a grin.

John was asleep within minutes, leaving Sherlock to his own devices, or rather, to explore John’s body. He brought his knees up to his chest as he just looked at the worn skin of John’s back. The distinguishing marks of a bullet that had passed through his shoulder four years ago kept his attention for almost a full minute before his eyes wandered to John’s back. He could imagine John several years ago, in his prime, his back would be quite toned like the rest of him, but not excessively so. A few years had added a softer layer above the muscle; it was fitting.

John’s body was definitely masculine; there was no mistaking that. His back dipped into a curve just before the slight rise of his buttocks. Dipping down, Sherlock slid his gaze to John’s thighs. While Sherlock was lean—leaner than he had been before he started T—John’s thighs were thicker, more muscular than Sherlock’s had ever been. His calves were crossed and Sherlock could see the long, thin scars that remained after a rough run-in with a supposed dog-walker that turned out to be a serial murderer.

Sherlock brought his hand up to just touch John’s thigh. He traced up along the backside of his leg, up to his hip. He was soft there, too, Sherlock noted with a very light squeeze. Noticing how John’s body curved around the hip and waist area made him feel a little less self-conscious about his own curves. His weight had long redistributed towards a more masculine layout, but he retained the lithe, lean look that he’d had before starting hormone treatment. He didn’t hate his transport anymore. He had come to accept how he looked, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t occasionally self-conscious, especially when it came to seeing someone like John and being unable to stop the comparisons.

Eventually he tore his gaze away from John’s body and laid down, perpendicular to John sprawled out on his stomach. He laid on his back with his head resting on John’s lower back while he flipped through messages on his mobile, curious as to how long John would sleep. He supposed he could get used to having a naked John taking up half his bed.


End file.
